Of Fears and Doubts and Changing Circumstances
by Esther-Channah
Summary: There was a time when Alfred didn't have all the answers.


Disclaimer: All characters owned by DC. I'm only borrowing them.

Timeline: The night Bruce Wayne's life changed forever

Thanks to Kalin and Debbie for the beta!

**Of Fears and Doubts and Changing Circumstances**

"He's sleeping, now, Alfred." Leslie dimmed the light in the small examination room and ushered the shaken butler into the hallway. "It's not an uncommon occurrence after a long cry."

The Englishman nodded. "Quite so. I… am grateful that you were nearby, Doctor." His expression grew troubled. "I find myself at a loss as to how best to address the situation."

Leslie looked up at him sharply. "Address the situation? Alfred! He's an eight-year-old boy who's just seen his parents murdered before his eyes. What do you _think _you ought to do?"

Alfred leaned against the wall, feeling suddenly older than his forty-odd years. "I… have scant experience with the rearing of small children," he admitted. "And yet, Thomas Wayne willed custody of young Master Bruce to me. Neither he nor his wife have… had any suitable living relatives, you see." He sighed. "I shall, of course, strive to meet the challenge, but this is a delicate matter, Doctor. I scarcely think I'm equipped to deal with… with…"

"Who else is there?" Leslie demanded. "I'll spend as much time with him as I can, of course, but I can't close down the clinic and be at his side twenty-four-seven." She sighed. "I'm needed here."

"Yes, quite," Alfred nodded, dejected. After a moment, he drew a deep breath. "Well… I daresay I'll endeavor to rise to the occasion. As you state, for the moment, there is no one else." He smiled faintly. "It's hardly the norm for a boy of Master Bruce's standing to be reared by a gentleman's gentleman, you understand." He shook his head. "Particularly by a confirmed bachelor such as myself. Fortunately, the English tradition does afford an option that I'll need to explore shortly. It shouldn't be that difficult to locate a suitable boarding school…"

He heard the slap before his cheek felt its impact. Leslie's short brown hair seemed to bristle as her eyes flashed fire. "How… dare you?" She hissed. "Alfred Pennyworth, on the other side of that door, there is a terrified child who has just lost both his parents in one night. I will be dead and damned before I allow you to even consider ripping him away from what he has left." She pointed him back toward the room. "Now you go in there. I want him to see you when he wakes up. And I expect you to tell him that you will be there for him." She shook her head in disgust. "Boarding school! The very idea!"

It was with some trepidation that Alfred turned the door handle. Bruce stirred on the bed at his approach, but did not wake. Alfred settled back in a nearby chair to wait. He watched as Bruce began to toss about. "No…"

Alfred leaned forward. "Master Bruce?"

"No… don't. Don't shoot. No…"

"Master Bruce?" Alfred cast about searching for the right words. Why had he thought to ask Martha Wayne about Bruce's favorite breakfast, but not about the best way to calm him down when he was agitated? "Master Bruce?" He ventured again.

Slowly, the child's eyes opened. "Alfred?"

For a moment, his eyes blazed with hope. "It was a dream, wasn't it?"

Alfred hesitated. Bruce _had_ been having a nightmare…

Already, Bruce's eyes were clouding over as he took in his surroundings. "This is the clinic." His face crumpled. "Leslie…I mean, Dr. Tompkins… found me in the alley after…" He shuddered. "It wasn't a dream. I saw… he had a gun… he…" Bruce buried his face in the pillow. "I asked Mother to wear the pearls. If he hadn't seen them, then…"

For the first time in his memory, Alfred reached out and placed a gentle hand on Bruce's shoulder. "If there is one thing that you must believe," he began slowly, "it is that this is _not_ your fault. There was nothing that you could have done to prevent this."

Silence.

"Nothing," Alfred repeated.

Under his hand, the thin shoulders heaved. Bruce turned toward the wall. "'M sorry," he mumbled. "I shouldn't c-carry on, so. Stiff upper l-l-lip…" He began to shake.

Alfred recoiled. Had he really uttered those words? And did Bruce truly think that they applied here? How on Earth could he have…? He checked himself. 'How' didn't matter. "Master Bruce," he said softly, "I realize that I cannot know what you are feeling right now, so I shan't presume to try. I…" He hesitated. "I can only assure you that I will continue to look after you to the best of my ability, for as long as you need me."

Bruce rolled over. His cheeks were flushed, and the tear tracks still glistened. "You?" He whispered. "I… I won't have to g-go to an orphanage?"

Alfred was stunned. "An… orphanage, Sir?"

Bruce nodded. "I thought… well, I _am_ an orphan…"

Comprehension dawned. "No, Master Bruce. There… there shan't be any need for an institution of that nature." _And perhaps, the notion of a boarding school can be shelved for the forseeable future._ "We'll be heading home once you feel able."

Bruce looked searchingly at Alfred for a moment, then flung himself into the butler's arms.

Even as his body stiffened, unprepared for the contact, his arms closed fiercely around the small boy. "Carry on, Master Bruce," he murmured. "Carry on."

His decision was made, his rubicon crossed. And he would not look back.


End file.
